


Backfire

by Kaiseilin



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-22
Updated: 2012-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-31 14:39:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/345220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiseilin/pseuds/Kaiseilin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another dometic drabble in which John is foiled by the common household drinking straw and Sherlock finds it entirely amusing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Backfire

Crossing the room with the newspaper and his drink in hand, John takes a moment to glance towards his friend. Sherlock, is sat, finger picking idly on his violin strings, clearly deep in thought. This is confirmed when John waves his hand in front of the man's face in a churlish manner - receiving no sign of recognition.

 

Sometimes when Sherlock is like this, John likes to play a game of Sherlock-Buckaroo. He once got an entire tub of paper-clips into the man's hair, taking the piss out of him in the process and Sherlock didn't remember a thing. He'd come to him the next morning asking how paper-clips had got there and John only hid his face in his paper and shrugged, ignoring the accusing stare.

 

This time he sets his drink and paper down and just watches his friend's face. He hardly blinks, it's fascinating, a little scary in the early days; a strange concentrated presence filled the room and left hardly any for him to breathe. These days he was an expert in living with that space, bashing into it clumsily, even. Watching Sherlock absent minded, he brings his drink to his mouth, sucking around the straw in his glass and grunting with a start as juice shoots back at his face.

 

“The bloody hell happened there?” He huffs, blinks cordial out of his eyes, shaking his head back and forth and double taking when he notices Sherlock is out of his Zen and looking at him with one eyebrow quirked. It's over the second they lock eyes, both feel the audacious childish laughter tumbling out of their mouths and leaving them shaking against their chairs until they can't breathe any longer.

 

John is the first to attempt to stop, exhaling slowly to calm down while trying to ignore the quiet chuckles still trying to leave Sherlock's mouth. Fighting Sherlock is futile though and the second the detective tries to ask what just happened John is laughing again, more hysterically, and taking Sherlock with him.

 

Children, the pair of them, John reckons. Like teenagers who laugh in canteens because everything is, for some reason, hilarious at that age and they have nothing better to do. Then it gets to the point where nobody even knows why they're laughing in the first place.

 

But damn him if it doesn't feel fantastic.

 

Sherlock is calling him an idiot and John is calling him one right back and Mrs Hudson has just walked in and before she can ask, they're off for a third round. She only smiles and shakes her head, bringing something into their kitchen while they wipe away tears.

 

“So nice to hear you boys in good spirits.” She sings from the adjoining room as they finally settle a little, twitching grins still on their faces. John takes a glance to his friend; looking down at his violin to avoid giggling again. He smiles to himself behind his hands.

 

Yes, it is rather nice, he supposes.

**Author's Note:**

> I just love it when they giggle.
> 
> Me and John aren't the only ones who have suffered the rudeness of such drinking straws, right? Anyone else had physics backfire on them and get a face full of whatever they were drinking for no apparent reason?


End file.
